The Power of a Name
by staringbackatme
Summary: In this next generation Harry Potter fanfiction, Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy know the power of their names. Instead of bringing them apart, this understanding brings them together in an unbreakable friendship that might turn into something more.
1. Chapter 1

_R.W._

I entered the Hogwarts Express, waving at my mum and dad as I climb up the rickety metal stairs. I take a shaky, deep breath and tell myself to calm down. Anyways, it isn't like I am the only new student at Hogwarts; all of the first years must be as apprehensive and nervous as I am.

_Get it together,_ I told myself. _You don't want to make an impression of a scared, nervous, dependent girl, do you?_

Over the summer, I had decided that I wanted to be able to create a reputation for myself without using the free pass my last name gave me. In the Wizarding World, the only man alive more famous than my parents, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, is Harry Potter. And he was my bloody uncle.

Everyone knew their entertaining tale, and everyone admired them for it. But for me, they were just family members, people I saw nearly every day. I didn't want to use my connection to them to make me popular. I wanted people to like me because of my personality, not because my parents are famous.

I glanced at my watch and my eyes widened as I realize the train was going to start leaving in approximately 30 seconds. I better find a spot quick. Out of the corner of my eye, I could already see that most of the carriages were already full. I sighed. Looks like I'll have to spend the journey with a stranger. I walked to the last carriages in the back, mumbling apologies as I slipped past the carts coming around with candies my dad had told me were _to die_ for.

The last two carriages were sparsely filled. One, with two third year girls whispering and giggling like total airheads. I turned, and saw the other held just a scrawny, pale boy with slicked back pale-blonde hair. Well, at least that was what his hair used to look like. Now, it was sticking up in the back like crazy, showing signs of defiance.

I tip-toed in, (not that it made a difference; I had a noisy trunk, not to mention my grouchy cat, Crookshanks Jr.) trying to figure out what would be a worthy conversation starter. _Hello?_ No, that made me sound prissy. _Hi, my name is Rose. What's your name? _Definitely not. She didn't want to make him think she was pushing him to respond. How about… _The landscape is beautiful, isn't it? _I nearly laughed out loud at that one. Today was exceptionally foggy, and you could barely see ten feet out the window. Nevertheless, the strange boy continued being mesmerized by the passing indecipherable landscape.

_S.M. _

The moment I entered the Hogwarts Express, I could feel the whispers and stares the others gave me.

_Is that-?_

_Yup._

_Oh, I've heard so many stories about his father. Did you know that his grandfather was one of the…_

_He better end up in Slytherin, where he belongs._

I knew it was just my overactive imagination working against me, but I couldn't help the shivers that always overcame me whenever someone recognized me, therefore recognizing who my family was.

_The Malfoys._ My name has been spit out with contempt and disgust for years, from all types of witches and wizards. My grandfather was one of the Dark Lord's most loyal servants, and my father was training to become a Death Eater.

My father isn't a horrible guy, after all of this. He has changed, and he doesn't want to become his father. He wanted to erase his reputation, but it was already too late for that. He was already pinned down as an ally of the Dark Lord's. My mother, god bless her, puts up with all the heat we get for our heritage. My parents warned me that students at Hogwarts, and possibly even teachers, might already think I am a bad person the moment they saw me. I just had to get past that, and put the Malfoy reputation behind me and show them who I really am.

Even though those encouraging words were meant to raise my spirits, I couldn't help but think: what if I am the person people think I am… what if I become like my grandfather, or a younger version of my father? I never told anyone my doubts; I thought they would either laugh at me, or worse- agree with me.

So as I reached the last carriage, I was full of relief that it was empty and I could just sit and think to myself. With the fog outside, I could let my imagination reign free. I always loved doing this, although my father always told me that it was nonsense, and at 11 I should have grown out of it.

I was in the middle of a thrilling tale full of evil queens, untrustworthy jacks, and innocent criminals when someone else entered the carriage. I didn't turn around, but I saw their reflection in the window. It was a girl, first year, petite with long, red hair. She had amber eyes and a constellation of freckles across her face. She sat down across from me and seemed to be debating with herself on something that I frankly did not have the energy to care about.

After a good ten minutes of seemingly awkward silence, I decided I might as well start the conversation if she wasn't going to.

"I'm Scorpius, but don't call me that. Hello. You are?" I sat up straight and looked at the girl who started out of her silent reverie.

"I- hello- um… My name's Rose," she said awkwardly, rushing out the words like they were bursting out of her. I grinned at her. Maybe I wanted to be alone before, but at least there was someone who would give me a chance despite my ancestry. Maybe Hogwarts won't be so bad, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

_R.W._

I must admit, I _was_ surprised he talked first. For goodness sake, what the bloody hell was he staring out the window like a glum moron for if he was looking for a conversation? Whatever the logic to that may be, at least they were talking and she didn't have to sit for two hours in an awkward silence.

After she mumbled out her name in a panicky, totally unprofessional way, the boy- Scorpius?- seemed to lighten up a bit. The boy was currently talking about the mysterious weather when I decided I better take the conversation in my own hands to help the poor bloke out.

"So, if I'm not to use your full name, Scorpius," He grimaced at his birth-given name. "Then what am I to call you?"

He twisted his lips and seemed to be in deep thought.

"Didn't quite think of that. My father calls me by my full name, but I _hate_ it. Unfortunately, it seems like 'Scorpius' is one of those names that can never have a good nickname…"

"Scorp?" I tried. He shook his head fervently.

"Scorpio? Like the Muggle astrological sign?"

He looked at me like I had just sprouted another nose. Then he nodded.

"I guess so, since that's probably the best one possible"

"Okay," I put on a big smile and reached out to shake his hand. "Just call me Rose."

He shook my hand and for a fleeting moment it almost felt like it could mean something, like we could be friends, but it went away quickly. Scorpio had that gloomy look in his eyes again. What was wrong?

_S.M._

For a moment there, I thought we could be friends, we would have nicknames for each other, and we would have inside jokes or whatever friends are supposed to do. That was until I realized who she was. Obviously, she hasn't recognized me yet. If she had, she would have ran like the wind into another carriage.

I didn't quite put everything together until I shook her hand. The flaming red hair and billions of freckles, her properness, her intelligence, just like her mother… _Must be a Weasley._

Rose moved her trunk closer to her and her cat's cage fell on her foot, along with a deafening screech from said cat. "Bloody hell," she cursed under her breath. Ah, yes, my father always avoided saying it, and he grew cold whenever I said it. It must have reminded him too much of the Weasleys.

Personally, I have nothing against the Weasleys. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley seem like brave, noble people. But I can't ignore my ancestry, can I? Even if my father has changed from who he was shaped to be in his childhood, he can't shake the concrete disgust of the Weasleys. That's how he was brought up. Maybe it wasn't how he taught me specifically, but my heritage precedes me.

But-

But-

No-

_She _doesn't know who I am. But I have to tell her don't I? I have to tell her, because if I cheat her and lie, then I'll just confirm my reputation. That I'm a scoundrel, a dirty little liar never to be trusted.

But if I don't tell her, maybe we could be friends still, and later it won't matter what my last name is.

_What am I supposed to do?_


End file.
